


Redemption

by kyatrathequeen



Series: Monsters and Sorrow [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alrighty so here's the start of the sequel!, Beating, Blood and Injury, Canon Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feral Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt finally realizes he was an idiot, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Being an Idiot, Hurt/Comfort, Jaskier is captured and it is not pleasant for him, Jaskier | Dandelion Being a Feral Bastard, Jaskier | Dandelion Has a Past, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, POV Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, POV Jaskier | Dandelion, POV Roach, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, Whump, also Geralt is still an idiot, also they drain some of his blood offscreen, buuuuuutt.....is it too late?, it might be too late honestly, obviously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:55:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22729492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyatrathequeen/pseuds/kyatrathequeen
Summary: And Geralt had looked him in the eye and decided that the bard, his bard, was only trying to trick him. Jaskier had lied to him yes, but only because he had thought Geralt would kill him if he knew the truth about his parentage. The thought hurt more than any blow, but with the information he knew now, he knew he was right. His first impulse was to go find Jaskier, but did he even deserve that? With a pang, Geralt realized that even though he now missed Jaskier more than he’d thought possible, the bard was at least, finally, safe.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Monsters and Sorrow [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1627366
Comments: 84
Kudos: 807





	1. A Realization

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! so I did do a kind of dialogue dump in this chapter, I wanted to lay the groundwork for further chapters and delve a little bit into Jaskier's past. Let me know if it's too clunky, too much dialogue, or too much exposition. Also this may or may not be the end of the series and a fix-it fic, or more emotional pain like the last one, just depends on how vindictive I feel when I'm writing the chapters.

Geralt stared down the man across from him. “Do you have what I asked for?”

The man shrugged, thin shoulders rising and falling. His entire body was thin. Thin face, thin nose, weedy arms and legs. Geralt was fairly certain if he stood side-ways he’d disappear altogether. “Sure I do, but look, why do you even want to know about this guy so badly?” The man’s voice was tinged with blunt curiosity. “I’ve trailed other Witchers, sorcerers, monsters, elves, kings and their retinue, and I think this is the strangest request I’ve had yet. He’s just a bard, why bother? Is he important to someone?”

Geralt snarled. “It doesn’t matter. I paid what you asked and I have the rest here when you tell me what I want to know.”

The man stared at him keenly. “what, jilted lover wanting some dirt? Why don’t you just cut his head off and be done with it? I’d think the Butcher of Blaviken would be no stranger to violence.”

Geralt leaned forward slightly, his eyes a warning.

Sighing, the man put his hands up in a gesture of mock surrender. “Fine, but you wasted your money. The bard’s as clean as they come. Born Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove, about 25 years ago to a family of moderate nobility in Kerack, went to a temple school for his early education where he was remembered very vividly, although most certainly not fondly.”

Geralt could have almost smiled at the image of a young Jaskier wreaking havoc in a strict temple school.

“Later, after he’d fought his way through the temple school, he went off to Oxenfurt University, where he studied the liberal arts for four years, and became a teacher for one, gaining a reputation for quick wit, cheesy pick-up lines, and virility in bed. He then professed a desire to travel and set off under the stage name of Jaskier, shortly after which, he met a Witcher known as Geralt of Rivia, and set himself up as his own personal muse. He continued to travel with the Witcher.”

Here the man stopped to nod at Geralt. “And I’m sure I don’t need to recount all their adventures. When the bard was not travelling with the Witcher he was industriously spreading Geralt’s praises, as well as his own, composing and singing cliché love songs, and continuing to bed an absolutely unfathomable number of people of all genders. All above board, absolutely no criminal connections whatsoever. He has gone missing over the past few weeks but he is most likely holed up with some minor noble or two. His family has no connections with anything shady, and are relatively unimportant in the grand scheme of things. His older brother is a fat and happy viscount over a small chunk of land, with a moderately beautiful wife, five children, and absolutely no ambition to speak of. His parents both died nonviolent deaths in his early adulthood, and all in all this was the most boring man I’ve ever investigated.”

The thin man sat back and folded his hands in his lap, an air of complacency in a job well done hanging about him. Geralt frowned, this description of Jaskier was not fitting at all with what he had seen on that night a few months ago. He’d been expecting the record of Jaskier to only go back at most a year before he met him. Geralt glanced up as a thought struck him. “Could someone have assumed the bard’s identity?”

The man shrugged. “Only if they were a shapeshifter. I talked to too many people who knew the man personally from early childhood, and he hasn’t disappeared for long enough for someone similar to take his place.” His eyes, fixed on Geralt, were very bright, and Geralt reminded himself that this was a man who dealt in the buying and selling of secrets. He was undoubtedly dying to get his hands on Geralt’s. Still, there were things he had to know.

“Was there anything strange about his birth?”

“You know….” The man frowned. “now that you mention it, there was a bit of a kerfuffle when Julian was born. His mother was by all accounts a stubborn woman, she went walking by the sea close to their home and her labor came upon her much earlier than she expected. She ended up giving birth alone, it was quite the scandal at the time. Especially with all the siren problems they’d been having, she was foolish to go out near the sea alone, and in her condition…” the man trailed off and clicked his tongue. “She was lucky to be alive.”

“You said siren problems?” Geralt could feel his heart pounding in his ears. He was so close to figuring out the riddle Jaskier had presented him.

“Yes.” The man waved his hand airily. “Quite the infestation, from what I heard they may have even attempted to clear them out the day before, so like I said, it was quite foolhardy-“

Geralt cut him off, throwing his bag of gold in the man’s general direction and rising to his feet. “I’ve heard enough.”

Turning, he walked out of the back room he’d been in, emerging blinking into the main part of the brothel he’d chosen to have his meeting in. No one questioned it when two men showed up willing to pay cash for a room with sound proof walls and a few hours of privacy. As he strode towards the door a woman in clothes meant more to reveal than to conceal caught his arm.

“Where are you running off to with a frown like that?” she smiled playfully, but there was no hint of a scent of lust. She only sought a transaction. At any other time he might have indulged her, she was certainly beautiful to look on. But now there was only one thing occupying his mind. He gingerly unwrapped her fingers and continued on his way, bursting out into the streets. As he made his way back to the inn where he’d left Roach, his mind wouldn’t stop working.

Jaskier’s voice played in his mind over and over again. He’d begged Geralt to let him stay, pleaded with him, was almost ready to die rather than be sent away. And Geralt had looked him in the eye and decided that the bard, _his bard_ , was only trying to trick him. Jaskier had lied to him yes, but only because he had thought Geralt would kill him if he knew the truth about his parentage. The thought hurt more than any blow, but with the information he knew now, he knew he was right. His first impulse was to go find Jaskier, but did he even deserve that? With a pang, Geralt realized that even though he now missed Jaskier more than he’d thought possible, the bard was at least, finally, safe. Better to leave him safe. Jaskier would recover from Geralt abandoning him, and he’d be better off not following Geralt into danger.


	2. A Blank Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so Geralt is NOT taking pushing Jaskier away well, and is resorting to some unhealthy coping mechanisms. So be warned, I don't think it's bad enough for a trigger warning, but he does deal with his emotions through anger and violence. Also you're probably going to be confused unless you've already read the first work in the series because this chapter does heavily reference/quote it.

Geralt’s sword swung in a wide arc, cleaving easily through the body of the slavering ghoul lunging at him. Pivoting, he slashed viciously at one behind him. Turn, stab, block, stab, sweep. Ghoul after ghoul fell at his feet. He felt a fierce joy in movement, reveling in his own rage. Mind so filled with adrenaline and the feeling of fighting for his life there was no room for anything else. Eventually he stood surrounded by a pile of bodies and a still woods. There was no sound except for his own breathing. For a moment he stood motionless as well, catching his breath and basking in the high that came with combat.

Then he moved forward, casually nudging a ghoul aside with one boot. He scooped up the head of a ghoul and headed back to where he’d left Roach. By the time he’d made it back to her the adrenaline and potion he’d taken had mostly worn off. He felt tired, a bone-deep weariness. He took the time to do a quick inventory of any injuries. Fortunately it didn’t look like any of the ghouls had bitten him, that could have been tiresome to get sorted out. He easily swung back up onto Roach, the ghoul head between his legs. He was going to need some more potion ingredients, perhaps he could ask for some instead of money, he needed some leather to repair one of his stirrups, maybe a few more little things- _I know what you have to do Geralt, just be quick._ He grimaced, trying to shove the memory of Jaskier pleading for a speedy death back to the back of his mind. It went, only to be replaced by another, _tear-filled blue eyes staring into his “Geralt please, I’m sorry, don’t make me leave you”._

That was in the past, Jaskier was better off now anyway. Maybe the town he’d just cleared the ghouls out for would know of another contract he could pick up. His aching muscles protested going after another job so quickly but he ignored them. The snarling monster of rage and guilt in his chest cried out for more action, more anger, more anything that would make the memories of his own decisions go away. He just needed more monsters to kill, more of the sweet blankness of mind that came with fighting them off.

He came riding back into town, strode into the mayor’s office, plonked the ghoul head down, and held out his hand.

“My payment?”

The mayor stared at the ghoul head, then slowly dragged his eyes back up to the witcher. “Ah…how…how do I know that all the ghouls are dead?”

He moved closer to the mayor, looming over him, and the thing in his chest screamed for blood, to draw his sword and put it against the fat man’s neck, to smash his face into the desk, to make him regret ever doubting him. He fought it back, at the least he didn’t want another reason for people to call him “butcher”.

Still, the mayor must have seen something of his struggle in his face because he opened a drawer of his desk with shaking hands and put a sizable sack of coins out on the desk-top. “I just…ah…wanted to m-make s-sure you were sure…I’m….ah…sure you would never _knowingly_ cheat someone…but…ah-“

“Shut up.” Geralt snarled, interrupting him and grabbing the sack off his desk. The man’s weakness irritated him. If he was going to challenge a witcher he should at least have the balls to back it up. He was just a small-town bully, used to being able to push his weight around. Still, he might have information Geralt needed.

“Know of any other contracts around here?”

“Well..ah…” the mayor stammered, one finger going to loosen his collar.

Geralt’s lip curled, the man was sweating like a dog and the scent of his fear clouded the entire room.

“Well?” he growled.

At this pivotal moment a woman who had apparently been listening in popped into the room. “There’s a contract for a kikimora out in Wickap, 10 miles down the road to the east.” She held out a small bundle. “Here, some food for the journey, and I thank you for getting rid of the ghouls, they’d killed too many of us.”

Surprised, Geralt reflexively reached out and took the bundle, turning his attention to the woman as he did so. She was middle-aged, with an intelligent, kind face. The anger he’d felt towards the mayor left him and he felt vaguely guilty about unnecessarily bullying what was undoubtedly her husband.

At that moment the mayor stood up, “Miriam there’s really no need for interf-“

Geralt and Miriam simultaneously turned to stare at him, and he quietly sat back down. Geralt turned back to Miriam and made a small motion of his head that could almost be considered a bow. “Thank you for the information.”

Turning, he strode back outside to Roach. As he rode off he could hear what sounded like the beginnings of an argument breaking out behind him. The remnants of the potion he’d taken allowed him to hear the mayor attempting to remonstrate his wife for interfering “again” in this matter. She was having none of it. Geralt’s lips twitched, that would explain the strange combination of enthusiastic promise of reward on the poster he’d picked up, and the mayor’s lackluster approach to the whole problem.

As he rode Roach on the road to the east, he catalogued everything he’d need for fighting a kikimora. His potions were very low and he should really try to save them, but surely he could handle one kikimora without outside aid. He needed more action, needed to not think for just a few more minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apologies for the delay in updating, exams hit like a freight train and I've barely had time to shower the last few weeks. I should be updating more regularly from here on out. Also I know the last two chapters have been Geralt-heavy but I promise Geralt and Jaskier WILL meet in the next chapter and it WILL rip your heart out and stomp on it. Sorry not sorry ;)


	3. A Meeting

Geralt really should have used some of his potions. He cursed as his side twinged, one spiked leg had ripped a gash all along his side that was going to really be a bitch to try and clean out before it closed up. There was a faint pounding in his ears and he was fairly confident he’d pulled a hamstring. Even with his mutations he was going to be walking gimpy for a little bit. Maybe he was getting old. _Witchers don’t retire, when they get old and slow enough, eventually something comes along that’s faster and stronger._ Oh well. He shook that thought from his mind, and continued making his limping way back to town, dragging the kikimora head behind him. He was going to have to get supplies to make more potions though.

Business proceeded as usual once he got to the town. The mayor was simultaneously deeply horrified, stingy, and suspicious. Without Jaskier to herald his praises and soften the suspicion aimed at him no one in the town was welcoming, and he got a lot of dirty looks and muttered curses, although none were bold enough to openly tell him to leave. Somehow it stung more than it ever had before Jaskier started singing his praises.

He wondered idly if Jaskier would start singing songs now to mar his reputation. It wouldn’t take much before he would be chased out of every town he set foot in.

He reeked of kikimora guts but he had been told by the mayor, after he had sufficiently intimidated him, that there was a small group of hedge-witches, potion-makers, and snake oil salesmen that just might have the potion ingredients he needed staying at the town inn. They had announced they were leaving at first light, it was almost noon now and Geralt highly doubted they’d left yet. Still it wouldn’t hurt to hurry and besides, a good splattering of kikimora guts always helped price negotiations along.

Sure enough, when Geralt shouldered open the somewhat rickety door to the inn he spied a group of rag-tag adventurer types clustered around a table. There was a general air of about-to-leave about them but they hadn’t quite left yet. He heard snatches of conversation.

“Look Gim was supposed to be back hours ago-“

“I don’t…………..leave without….-“

“Only………..can control that bloody thing-“

As he walked closer he heard the woman who appeared to be their self-appointed leader say firmly. “I say we go ahead and kill it now. Gim was the only one who could cast a strong enough spell to keep it under wraps and it looks like he’s scarpered.”

His curiosity piqued, Geralt hovered within hearing range. It never hurt to listen in to the odd bit of gossip and it seemed they weren’t going anywhere fast.

One man, a potion-maker by the smell of him, all chemical burns and sharp eyes, protested. “Look you have no idea how much valuable stuff I could harvest off that thing! It would quite literally make our fortunes, and we’ll never have this chance again. Look I’m sure I can brew up a sleeping potion to knock it out and then-”

He was cut off by the woman who’d spoke initially, her jewelry jingling as she shook her head vehemently. “Our fortunes are no good to us if our throats are cut in our sleep! You know damn well you won’t be able to brew up a potion that will work! You’ve had your chance and you couldn’t get anything to work, and besides we don’t want anyone asking uncomfortable questions, not with the way it looks now, we kill it now, harvest what we can, and make good off that.”

There were murmurs of agreement, and even the potion-maker seemed to realize he had lost, reverting back to sullen silence. They seemed to have come to a decision and Geralt wasn’t going to risk losing them. He walked up to their table.

Predictably, the jewelry-bedecked leader noticed him first. “You need something?” She snapped pugnaciously, her nose wrinkling as she looked him up and down. “Well…besides a bath.”

“Potion ingredients.” Geralt said shortly, and listed off a short list of the most likely stuff.

There was a pause, and much sideways glancing. Eventually the potion-maker seemed to lose some invisible battle and shrugged. “Yeah I’ve got most of that, but it’ll cost you.”

“How much?” Geralt reached for his money bag.

The leader glanced up at him, eyes shrewd. “You’re a witcher, yeah? You kill monsters?”

Geralt grunted in affirmation, it looked like he might be the one to take care of their little potion supply problem.

“We’ve got a bit of a…..well a monster we need taking care of. We caught it back a few days ago and figured we could farm it for ingredients but it’s been hell to cart around.” She gestured to one of the crew, a sullen, bald-headed man with an extensive bandage covering his bicep, and to a few of the other members of the party, all of whom were bandaged, one of whom was missing fingers. “We thought it ate people but it would just bite chunks out of us and spit ‘em out. It’s vicious, we tried beating it out of it and dousing it with potions but…well…nothing seemed to work and winters coming and it’s just another mouth to feed no matter what this crazy says.” She jerked a thumb back at the potion-maker.

“So? Just kill it yourself.” Geralt wanted no part of this.

The woman hesitated. “Weeeelll that would be the problem. Ya see, Gim was our mage and he was the only one who could cast any kind of calming spell that would stick and he’s been gone all night and well….”

Geralt interrupted her train of thought. “Dark skin, black hair, blue eyes?”

“Oh you’ve seen him! Well we won’t be needing you then, where was the bastard? Shacked up with some girl too young for ‘im?”

“I saw his corpse.”

There was a nasty little pause before Geralt felt he should probably elaborate. “Kikimora did him in.”

The group, or most of them, lowered their eyes for a moment, before the leader seemed to shrug it off. “Ah well, it was bound to happen eventually, Gim wasn’t the sharpest knife in the box. I TOLD him it wasn’t safe to go wandering off by himself but you know how those with magic can get, think they’re invincible-“

Geralt cut her ramblings off. “The potion ingredients.”

“Kill our monster and you’ll get them. We locked it in our closet but by the sound of it it slipped its ropes and now we don’t dare open the door.”

“I’ll pay in coin.” Geralt set his money bag on the table with a very full-sounding _thunk_. The potion-makers already bright eyes somehow turned it up a notch.

The leader forestalled him from reaching for it. “You’ll pay by killing our monster or you’ll not get your ingredients.” She cut off the potion-maker’s protest by firmly placing a hand over his mouth.

“Hmmmm. Fine” He might as well. He wanted to get this over with so he could go soak in a nice bath. “What room are you in?”

“Second door on your left when you go up the stairs.”

Geralt walked up the stairs, silver sword in hand. Hopefully this would be quick, for the sake of whatever poor creature those people had picked up as for anything else.

He paused in front of the door, listening. There was a faint scrabbling sound from inside the room, but it was muffled. The creature was still inside the closet. Good.

He opened the door as silently as possible. The room was small and obviously hastily exited. The closet had been thoroughly barred, but something inside was definitely moving. He heard it go still for a minute, and then the door shuddered, hit by a force from inside. That should stun it for a few seconds. Geralt hastily unbarred the door and threw it open, sword ready to strike at whatever was inside.

Blue eyes looked into gold, and the world came crashing down.


	4. An Indignant Cockatoo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: Jaskier is beaten and his blood is extracted by his captors. It isn't really described in this chapter though.
> 
> I should note that I do not do rape/sexual assault in my stories. All of my characters have permanent plot armor in regards to that point no matter how theoretically implausible because I control the world and I say there shall be no sexual assault ever. So Jaskier was not raped/violated while in captivity, so you don't have that to worry about. 
> 
> Also I am feeling out plot twists as a literary device so any feedback you can give me on the twists I've thrown in the story so far would be appreciated. (easy to see coming, unexpected, cliche, interesting, whether they make the story better or worse, etc.)

“Jaskier? What are you doing here?”

Jaskier stared up at him from where he had been crouching on the floor and then painfully raised himself back up to eye level, an odd light in his eyes. “What am I-What am I doing- I have been KIDNAPPED and ASSAULTED. My lute has been taken away, my blood, my very LIFE FORCE has been drained, I have not bathed in a week, I have been forced to share quarters with honestly some of the most DISGUSTING people, my life has been a walking HELL and then the LAST person I ever wanted to see busts open the door of the CLOSET, Geralt they put me in a CLOSET, A CLOSET, where I was being forcibly held, and all you can say is ‘Hey Jaskier watcha doing here?’” Jaskier paused to take a deep breath before continuing with his righteous tirade. “OBVIOUSLY Geralt, I am here because I am a valuable MONSTER with very valuable organs and such.” He paused again, a thought striking him as Geralt tried to sheathe his silver sword as inconspicuously as possible. “OH-HO they sent you in to kill me DIDN’T they? Well I seem to remember only ‘mercy’ holding you back last time so now that you’re being paid to kill the monster why don’t you just GET ON with it?!”

Jaskier spread his arms wide in mock surrender, inviting Geralt to strike a blow. Geralt could see his hands trembling, smell the reek of old and new fear, and see the bruises and cuts that littered the visible parts of Jaskier’s body. Bravado was the only thing keeping him on his feet.

“I’m not here to kill you.”

“Well then I suppose you can leave.” Jaskier spat out, suddenly vicious, his arms going back to his sides.

Geralt grunted in reply, stepping towards Jaskier, who flinched back. He stopped. “You can barely stand.”

Jaskier met his eyes, fury twisting his face. “I can manage.”

Geralt reached out and slung one of Jaskier’s arms over his shoulders, putting his own arm around Jaskier to support him. He’d have liked to have been more patient for Jaskier to trust him on his own, but he didn’t want any of the group to come back up and find them like this. He could handle himself but Jaskier was vulnerable and might get hurt if it came down to a fight. For all his talk, Jaskier offered surprisingly little resistance, although he still refused to lean on Geralt more than absolutely necessary. “Come on, this inn has a back door.”

Geralt walked Jaskier, who had gone concerningly quiet and still, back out of the room. He planned to slip out the back and get to Roach with little fuss.

That plan was unfortunately upended by the face of the jewelry-bedecked leader of the little party downstairs, who had apparently been waiting just around the corner.

“What the hell is this! You were supposed to kill the thing!”

Geralt growled. “I only kill monsters.”

“I don’t know what it told you, but it is a monster, don’t let it fool you with how it looks now, stick it in a tub and see what it becomes.” The woman spat at Jaskier and he shrank against Geralt’s side, trembling.

Geralt reacted without thinking, pressing the woman up against the wall with a sword at her throat. “You tortured him for potion ingredients.”

She stared back at him, eyes wide and frozen. The monster in his chest was fully awake and screaming for blood. _Kill her. Cut her throat open and watch her bleed. She hurt him, treated him like an animal. Kill her._

Through the haze in his head he foggily realized Jaskier was saying his name.

“Geralt-Geralt, stop! It’s not worth it, you know it’s not worth it. You’d never forgive yourself!”

That was an odd thing to say. He pulled the sword off the woman’s neck and growled. “Leave, and remember the only reason you are still breathing is because of mercy shown from someone you tortured. If you ever touch him again I will hunt you down and kill you.”

The woman nodded frantically and went scurrying down to join the rest of her crew, who were all clustered at the bottom of the stairs, staring up at them with wide eyes. Ah well, the cat was out of the bag now, might as well put on a show.

He walked down the stairs with Jaskier still suctioned to his side. Most of the group scattered. There was a moment when he thought bald dude might try something stupid, but he kept eye contact and hovered his hand over his iron sword and the man lowered his eyes and stepped aside.

A thought struck him. “Where is his lute?”

There was a dead silence from both everyone in the little group, and the unfortunate other patrons of the tavern, most of whom were pretending they did not exist. He let his face get more menacing “Where is the lute you took off this man?”

He heard the heartbeat of one of the people clustered around the woman whose life he’d just threatened speed up. He was dressed in the clothes of an aspiring bard.

Geralt unsheathed his sword and pointed it at the man. “You”. From the smell the man pissed his pants.

“Ah, well, see I ah, it-it-it was Solma’s idea! She said he wouldn’t be needing it and it would-would be fine if I could-“

“Bring it here.”

The man reached under the table and brought out was unmistakably Jaskier’s lute. He heard Jaskier give a little gasp of recognition at his side. The aspiring bard came closer on shaking legs before practically throwing it at Geralt and making a run for it out the door. Geralt let him go, it wasn’t like he cared what happened to him, and he managed to catch the lute before it hit the ground. He shoved it at Jaskier, who clutched it to his chest with shaking hands and a quietly whispered _“Thank you”_ Geralt pretended he hadn’t heard.

They made it to Roach unchallenged. Once they’d made it out Geralt let go of Jaskier, who promptly fell onto Roach. She, thankfully, appeared to grudgingly accept her fate and did not bite him.

“Can you ride?” Geralt asked gruffly.

“Yes”

Moving slowly so as not to startle him, Geralt reached out to help Jaskier on Roach, but the bard flinched away again. Geralt held very still, his hand out-stretched towards Jaskier, until he seemed to come to some kind of decision. Jaskier finally reached out and used Geralt’s hand as a support to get up onto Roach.

Geralt swung up behind him, taking Roach’s reins in hand.

“I thought Roach could only take one person?” Jaskier questioned.

“She’ll be fine for a short ride, we need to get you out of town.”

“Oh”

Jaskier didn’t speak for the rest of the ride.


	5. Silence is not Always Golden

Jaskier continued in uncharacteristic silence for the rest of the ride. Even worse, he was tense against Geralt, constantly on edge and shifting away from touching him. Geralt could smell the fear on him. He’d thought it would abate as they rode away from the people who had captured him, but it only grew stronger as time went on. He found he didn’t like that smell on Jaskier.

He hadn’t deserved this, he was too young, too innocent, too happy. They had taken that from him and it made Geralt burn to think about.

Finally they’d gone far enough that he wasn’t too concerned about any pursuers. He almost wished some of Jaskier’s captors would come after them, he itched to have some kind of reason to spill their blood. But it would be worse for Jaskier, he hadn’t wanted vengeance against Solma back at the inn, and it was not his place to seek a personal vendetta where it was not wanted by the victim. It was Jaskier’s call and he would have to respect it. Still, that wouldn’t stop him from defending them if they were dumb enough to attack.

He dismounted and led Roach off the road until he found a small clearing that was well hidden from the road. He turned and picked Jaskier up off Roach, ignoring the startled huff of protest, and set him gently down, not letting go until he was sure Jaskier wasn’t going to fall over.

Jaskier swayed where he stood, still clutching his lute. Geralt reached out to steady him on impulse. Jaskier jerked away from his hand, stumbling over his own feet and going sprawling on the ground.

Geralt sat down next to him as Jaskier maneuvered himself into a seated position, still dangerously quiet, eyes on the ground. Apparently his time with his captors had been more traumatizing than Geralt had initially thought. “I’m not going to hurt you Jaskier.”

“Okay, yeah.” Jaskier mumbled.

Geralt spoke slowly and tried to soften his voice. He’d dealt with traumatized humans before, and he’d found the important thing was to be as non-threatening as possible, and to explain everything you were doing, no matter how tedious. “I am going to go get some firewood, then I’ll take a look at your injuries. Is there anything that needs taking care of right now?”

“No, it’s fine.”

Geralt nodded and set off into the woods. If Jaskier _really_ went into shock he was going to need to keep him warm. Fortunately he still had the extra bedroll and blanket he’d bought for Jaskier when his whining about the cold got too annoying. If it came down to it he could lay Jaskier down on one bedroll and layer the other bedroll and blankets on top of him. If worst came to worst he could get under the covers with Jaskier and share body heat, but given his reaction to physical contact that would need to be a last resort option.

He came back with an arm full of firewood to find Jaskier standing up and patting Roach, leaning some of his weight against her.

“You need to sit back down.”

Jaskier glanced up, startled. “I’m fine, I can stand.”

“No, you can’t. Sit back down.” Geralt was started to get irritated. Jaskier might not be the most pliable when it came to other things but he usually bordered on the side of overreaction when it came to personal injuries. He’d seen him dramatically laid up for weeks over a simple cold.

Jaskier met his eyes for the first time since the inn, glowering at him. Geralt glowered right back, then bodily picked Jaskier up and sat him down against a fallen log. Jaskier gave an indignant squawk and looked to be ready to go leaping back up but Geralt kept a firm hand on his shoulder. “Stay, you’ll just overtire yourself.”

When it appeared that Jaskier was not going to immediately go leaping up again, he turned and took a blanket from Roach, tossing it at him.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Jaskier asked, nonplussed.

Geralt didn’t pause in setting the fire up. “Wrap yourself in it, you need to stay warm.”

“I need to stay-“ Jaskier stumbled as he seemed to put the pieces together, and then angrily threw the blanket away. “Geralt I am not going into fucking shock!”

He raised his eyebrows “You have the symptoms of someone on the verge of going into shock. You’re not talking, you’re acting strange and on edge, and you can barely support yourself. Put the blanket back.”

“Oh, you want to know why I’m not talking? Why I’m not being chatty? Why I’m ‘acting strange’?” Jaskier’s eyes shone with a dangerous light. “Well I’ll tell you Geralt I’m not going into shock I’m fucking _pissed_.”

“That’s a reasonable reaction to what was done to you-“ Geralt started calmly, ready with his ‘traumatized human who’s just discovered the world is quite a bit nastier than they’d thought’ talk, but Jaskier didn’t let him get started.

“You think this is about that motley little band that captured me and knocked me around a bit and took some of my blood?” Jaskier seemed incredulous. “I’m a godsdamned _siren_ Geralt! Do you think nothing like this has ever happened before?!” He was practically snarling now. “No, you don’t. Because I’m just a stupid, naïve, child to you aren’t I? Ready to come running back to you no matter what, just so long as you save my neck? Well my neck didn’t need saving. I’m not a child and I’m not helpless. I think you forget what it is I am and what it is I’m capable of.”

Jaskier was standing now, still unsteady on his feet, but refusing to clutch at anything for support. Geralt stared back up at him, face impassive. He could see the glint of fangs more clearly now as Jaskier talked, and small scales were starting to pop through whatever illusion kept them out of sight.

Jaskier barreled on. “Do you want to know how they were able to keep me in captivity Geralt?” He went on without waiting for an answer, seemingly assuming he wouldn’t get any. “Because I couldn’t see a way to escape that wouldn’t kill at least some of them and get a bounty put out on my head. If I’d wanted out I could have gotten out, those stupid little spells that one man put on me did jack-shit Geralt.”

Jaskier paused for breath. Geralt’s medallion was thrumming an insistent warning against his chest and his hand itched to grab for his sword. But he wouldn’t, not this time. Jaskier continued. “So don’t think this makes us okay, don’t think you can just save my ass and call it good, you told me it was only mercy that kept you from killing me and you sent me away without a second thought. You treated me like just another of your monsters to get rid of and now you come waltzing back like everything’s okay and you want to be friends again. I can take a lot but I can’t take that you son of a bitch.”

There were tears in Jaskier’s eyes when he stopped, breathing hard. There was a complicated cocktail of smells coming off him. Anger, fear, sadness, and, most improbably, a faint hint of arousal.

Geralt braced himself for a continuation of the tirade but when none seemed forthcoming he asked quietly “Are you done?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is basically  
> Geralt: "Oh no my poor fragile friend that I feel horribly guilty for sending away has been traumatized! I must be very careful not to startle him and be very gentle with him and keep him from going into shock."  
> Jaskier: *silently fuming and figuring out how best to rip Geralt to shreds, has already gotten over his captivity, would like to have some angry makeup sex now*
> 
> Also I know nothing about what I write about so apologies for any medical inaccuracies. I know they wouldn't have called it "going into shock" in the period it's set in but I chose to ignore that


	6. Roach is Real Done

Roach took another mouthful of grass, chewing it thoughtfully. Sea-creature had been making shrill noises for quite a long time now, and smells-of-leather was just sitting there. Unusual, not in that sea-creature talking a lot was unusual, but he wasn’t normally this high-pitched, or this angry sounding. She had been happy to see sea-creature of course. When smells-of-leather brought him out she had at first anticipated a return of apples and mane combing. He’d sat very stiffly on her as they walked back to camp though, and smelled of sweat and blood and general bad things. Again, unusual for sea-creature. She was used to smells-of-leather smelling of bad things, but sea-creature usually smelled of flowers.

Sea-creature stopped yelling and caught his breath, and smells-of-leather rumbled something. Sea-creature stiffened up and swelled slightly with apparent rage, sputtering at smells-of-leather. Oh dear. Whatever he’d been trying to communicate had not been the right thing. Sea-creature was acting like that skittish mare they’d come across last week, who’d been so terrified of the long-legged water creature that had attacked her, that she had dragged her owner for miles and then was very rude and tried to bite Roach when they caught up to her. Smells-of-leather should have just treated sea-creature like that mare. He’d been understanding then that fear caused anger, but she didn’t think he’d quite grasped that with sea-creature. Oh well, he was a little slow when it came to sea-creature, but he’d catch on.

Sea-creature shrieked and kicked smells-of-leather quite hard in the shin. Roach approved. Smells-of-leather had not been handling the courtship of sea-creature at all well, and it was about time sea-creature let him know that. If a stallion had tried to woo her like smells-of-leather had tried to woo sea-creature she’d have lost patience well before sea-creature did. The man just did not understand how to win a mate. Smells-of-leather didn’t even flinch when sea-creature kicked him. Oh that was bad too, didn’t he know you were supposed to back off, and pretend to be very hurt and ashamed? He just stood there stoically staring at the other man. Roach rolled her eyes and snorted, pride was all very well, but sea-creature was going to get frustrated and leave if he didn’t play the game.

Sure enough, sea-creature yelled again, turned, and started running off into the forest. He wasn’t going to get very far like that, she thought, calmly taking another mouthful of grass. He was limping quite badly, and smells-of-leather had chased down far faster things. She looked over at smells-of-leather. Instead of chasing after sea-creature he just stood there, watching him stagger off. Oh this was ridiculous, didn’t smells-of-leather know the rules at all? If he let sea-creature leave now he’d never have a chance in hell of being with him. If they ever met again sea-creature would be all cold and standoffish and smells-of-leather would go all stoic and hurt, and then would go off and fight one monster after another without a break, and she would have to stay out in the open all the time and eat grass instead of staying in comfortable stables sometimes and eating tasty grain and apples. This would not do at all.

She pointedly snorted at smells-of-leather. He glanced up at her, frowning. She snorted again, pawing at the ground. _Go after him you stupid man, before he’s gone forever_. She seemed to have got some of her message across at least, because smells-of-leather went all grim and dramatic and stalked after sea-creature. Roach rolled her eyes again, ah well, as long as he didn’t let sea-creature leave again everything would probably end up working out. Even if they were a dramatic pair of oblivious idiots, there was only so long they could dance around each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long delay and the short chapter, I've been slammed with final exams, and then writer's block hit like a ton of bricks. I think I've managed to get past that though, kudos to J4ck for suggesting doing a chapter from Roach's POV, hopefully it wasn't too clunky


	7. Feelings

True to Roach’s assessment, it didn’t take Geralt long to catch up to Jaskier. He’d run out of steam fairly quickly, and was sitting on a fallen tree, staring out into the forest. Geralt stopped a few feet from him, unsure if he should come any closer, or if it was even safe to do so. There was silence for a few moments, then Jaskier finally spoke, still staring straight ahead.

“I thought that I would die there. I….” He stopped talking again and Geralt remained silent, eventually he seemed to come to some sort of a decision. “yes I’m a siren and I have powers, but……I think if I could have escaped for real I would have done so, even if it meant killing all of them. The…the mage…he was powerful, and they kept me gagged most of the time anyway. I think when you found me was the first time I’d been able to speak freely, and that was just because he disappeared all night and they didn’t dare mess with me.” He stopped talking again and stared at the ground. “He probably took up with some girl or other, but it gave me a window, I was going to break out. I knew there was enough of them I couldn’t fight them all but….” Jaskier trailed off again and he swallowed, shoulders hunching. “I couldn’t take….I couldn’t take being a captive, being…..well, let’s call it what it is, being tortured for potion parts, they took so much of my blood I was unconscious most of the time. I figured….I figured even if I didn’t make it out….I figured I could….” Jaskier stopped talking, staring at the ground.

Geralt shifted slightly, waiting patiently. When no continuation seemed forthcoming he prompted, “You could what?” It came out harsher than he intended, and he winced slightly, but Jaskier hardly seemed to notice.

“I figured I could at least get them to give me a quick death.”

Geralt started calculating how far out from the town the band of travelers would have gone, given the direction they had probably gone and the relative slowness of their wagons compared to how fast a single rider on Roach could go. The large fellow with the sword might give some trouble, but the others weren’t too formidable….he glanced up to see Jaskier looking sideways at him, Jaskier glanced back down when he made eye contact.

“I know you think I’m weak.” He said, voice grim, “but I held out as long as I could….I didn’t think….I thought I was on my own, that it didn’t matter even if I escaped because they’d just track me down, and no one would want to help me.”

A tear trickled down Jaskier’s face. His voice caught. “I don’t want your pity, Geralt, and I don’t want your self-righteous mercy. Just leave me alone.”

Geralt quietly sat down next to Jaskier. “The mage is dead.”

“What?” Jaskier glanced up in confusion.

“You said he took up with some girl, he was killed by a kikimora.”

Jaskier seemed startled for moment, then his face hardened. “Good.”

Geralt sat beside him for a few moments more, he probably had a limited amount of time before Jaskier got some energy back and tried to bite him or something, but he couldn’t rush this if he didn’t want Jaskier to leave for good.

“I don’t pity you.”

Jaskier looked up again and his lips twitched into something resembling a smile for a moment, although there were tear tracks on his face. “I have to say, that seems like a change in subject from the dead mage thing. Are you actually attempting to apologize in your own emotionally stunted way?” His tone was lightly mocking, but there was still the hint of steel underneath it.

“Hmmm” nothing else for it now. “Yes. I was wrong to send you away, and I’ve never thought you were weak.”

Jaskier blinked at him, seemingly startled out of the mask he’d been rebuilding. “You…what?”

“I looked into you, you’re not the threat I thought you were. It was a mistake to send you away.” Jaskier had a blank look on his face, and smelled of astonishment and old anger, there was a good chance he was going to get kicked in the shins again but Geralt barreled on. “What happened to you…it was my fault, it would never have happened if I had been with you, I should have protected you. I am sorry. If…if you wish, you can travel with me again, but I will take you back to the sea if you want to go there and be safe.”

He stopped and stared off into the forest, suddenly feeling very tired. He had the sudden conviction that Jaskier was going to leave again, for good this time, go back to the sea where he was safe. And then he’d be left trudging on as he had been before. With the memory of blue eyes and a sparkling smile, and the knowledge that he’d been the one to take the smile out of the blue eyes, and the sparkle out of the smile. He waited for Jaskier to leave, or to yell at him, or to kick him in the shins again. Melitele knows he deserved it for what he’d caused to happen to him. 

Arms were suddenly flung about him, and to his never-ending astonishment, Jaskier started messy sobbing into his chest.

Completely nonplussed, he stared down at the messy shock of black hair pressed into his shoulder. After a few moments, based on the general incoherent sobbing, and the tightness of the arms about his chest, he decided Jaskier was probably going to stay there for the foreseeable future. Cautiously, he brought his own arms up and rested his hands gently on Jaskier’s back. He expected some kind of initial fear reaction, given what Jaskier had just been through, but the man didn’t even flinch, and he smelled no fear on him for the first time since he’d rescued him.

“I *sniff* missed you Geralt!” Jaskier eventually choked out. “Of course I want to travel with you, you stupid, emotionally stunted man! I thought…” more incoherent sobbing. “I thought I was never going to see you again, I thought I was going to die and then I’d never be able to go on more adventures with you and I never got to write a song about the Frightener, that really is a ridiculous unimaginative name you know, because I was so upset about it, even though it had the easiest rhyming scheme out of everything you fought!” Jaskier sniffed dramatically and then choked on how hard he was crying and also probably his own snot. Okay then, Geralt thought in some confusion, Jaskier didn’t appear to hate him, he just really needed a nap.

“And I never even found out what an Echidnae IS!” Jaskier wailed against him. “You wouldn’t tell me, and I couldn’t find anyone else that had ever even hear of it, and I thought you hated me, and Geralt, they took a lot of my blood, I don’t even know what all they did to me, I can’t use my powers all the way and I think that mage has something to do with it or maybe I’m just too weak right now.” He subsided into more crying, and Geralt awkwardly patted his back. That was a whole mess of problems.

“An Echidnae’s like a really big hedgehog that can shoot their spines.” He could only vaguely remember mentioning it and then refusing to tell Jaskier any more about it as a way of messing with him. “I can’t sense any spells or curses on you right now, you should be fine once you’ve rested, and I don’t hate you.”

Jaskier cried even harder and clung to him. Geralt held on a little tighter, he really was very young. He stood up and scooped him up. “We can deal with all that later, for right now you need to eat and sleep.”

He was concerned Jaskier was going to shriek or bite him in protest of being told what to do, but he seemed too exhausted to notice. He turned into Geralt once more and continued to cry as Geralt carried him back to camp.

Jaskier really needed someone better with emotions than Geralt, but he would have to do his best for now.


	8. A Conclusion

Geralt sat staring at the remaining embers of the fire, occasionally glancing over to where Jaskier lay sprawled out over both bedrolls. The sun filtered down and lit up his face, giving it an almost unearthly glow. Geralt supposed it was oddly appropriate.

Normally he would have woken Jaskier up long ago, he already had everything packed up and the sun was well up but the man seemed exhausted and he figured the best thing to do would be to let him sleep. Plus if Jaskier was still in anything like the mood he was last night, it was simple self-preservation to avoid waking him before he was ready to get up.

He glanced over at Jaskier again, and was startled to see blue eyes staring back at him. There was a somewhat awkward pause, and he wondered if he should look away and pretend nothing had ever happened, that Jaskier had never left.

Jaskier didn’t look away, and he couldn’t bring himself to.

“Hello.” Jaskier said softly, and then flushed, seemingly embarrassed at realizing they’d been staring at each other for an unreasonably long amount of time. It was, quite truthfully, one of the more adorable things Geralt had ever seen.

He cleared his throat, and went back to staring at the fire. “Hey.”

He could hear Jaskier rustling around and getting to his feet, but he didn’t glance back over, didn’t want to watch him leave.

Jaskier sat next to him, and he looked over in surprise to find him staring at him.

“Did you mean…all that stuff you said last night?” Jaskier asked bluntly, his face shuttered.

Geralt wasn’t sure which part Jaskier was talking about, but it didn’t really matter. “Hmmm. Yes.”

“Oh.”

They sat in silence for another moment, and Jaskier shifted closer to Geralt in a way he probably thought was subtle. He smelled of nervousness and a faint tinge of hopeful happiness.

Geralt held very still.

Roach, on the other side of the clearing, snorted in a way that sounded suspiciously exasperated.

Jaskier shifted again, moving subtly closer, glancing over at Geralt and then away.

When Geralt didn’t move away from him, it seemed to embolden him. He was close enough that Geralt could feel his body heat, but not close enough to touch. The nervous smell was practically pouring off him now, but to Geralt’s relief he didn’t smell any fear.

“Uh, Geralt…..”

Geralt looked at Jaskier. “Yes?”

“Please don’t punch me.”

Geralt blinked at him in utter confusion. “Why would I-“

Jaskier leaned forward and quickly shoved his lips to Geralt’s, leaving them there for a few seconds before moving his head back and studying Geralt’s face.

A small bomb went off in Geralt’s brain.

“Ah. Hmm.”

Jaskier abruptly started to back away. “Look I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…I just thought….”

Geralt gently reached out and grabbed the back of Jaskier’s head, keeping him from moving back any farther. He should really talk this out, see what Jaskier was looking for, make sure he wasn’t too emotionally compromised by his recent traumatic experience to think straight.

He leaned forward, pulling Jaskier to him, and kissed him. Jaskier went stiff before melting into him, kissing him with a fervor that was almost painful, biting at his lower lip and slipping his tongue between his teeth. Geralt let Jaskier push his shoulders to the ground, grinning up at him as Jaskier smiled back, still a little tentative.

They didn’t end up breaking camp until well past noon that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for how long I made you guys wait for the conclusion, hopefully it's not anticlimactic. If anyone is interested in me writing out a full explicit scene for the cutscene at the end I can do that as a separate chapter in the series, it just seemed out of place in the main one ;).


End file.
